“She’s worse than you,” I murmur.
I don’t mean it as an insult. It’s just the truth. The difference between them is vast, like the difference between a wildfire—violent, consuming, devastating—and a black hole that simply devours.
Nathaniel tilts his head. “Oh?”
“You’re…” I struggle to find the words. “Youfeel. Your soul isn’t clean, but it’s—it’s real. It burns.” My throat tightens. “But hers? It’s cold. There’s no fire, no grief. No anger.”
His expression shifts. Just slightly.
“There’s nothing,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “Like she isn’t even human.”
I look back down at the picture, staring into Laura Collins’ frozen, smiling face. I wonder how many people saw that expression and thought she was kind. How many people trusted her. How many people died because of it.
“How does she kill her victims?”
I shake my head.
“I don't think I can see that far,” I tell him.
“If you can't, that's fine,” he replies. “But the more we know, the better.”
He’s right.
I squeeze my hands into fists, willing the lingering sensation of Laura Collins' hollow soul to fade. But Nathaniel's right. If I just dig a little deeper, if I give them a little more information…
They’ll kill her faster.
And a person like her shouldn’t walk among the living.
“She’s methodical,” I say, rubbing at my temples. “She’s putting something into her candies… Something that doesn’t break down in the cooking process. Then she waits. Lets the effects kick in. And watches them die. From afar.”
His jaw tenses even more.
“What poison is it?”
“Something special. Something tailored.” I press my fingers against my temples, trying to sift through the sensation, through the echoes of what she’s done. “It doesn’t act right away. It lets them linger. Maybe hours, maybe days. She makes sure they suffer.”
Nathaniel watches me closely. “Does she kill at random?”
I shake my head. “No. There’s a pattern.” I exhale sharply. “She picks her victims carefully. The pretty ones.”
He licks his lips. “Alright, Skye. I'm going to name a couple of substances that might fit. Tell me if anything rings a bell, okay?”
I nod.
“Ricin?”
I close my eyes, stretching out toward the sensation again. I shake my head.
“Aconitine?”
I pause. It feels… close. But not quite right.
“Maybe,” I say hesitantly.
“Tetrodotoxin?”
I tense.
